


me relinquit

by Cakeenkets



Series: The Divines Have Forsaken Us [1]
Category: Aphmau Minecraft Diaries, aphmau - Fandom
Genre: All hurt no comfort, Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i used a prompt again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakeenkets/pseuds/Cakeenkets
Summary: Travis chooses to fight alongside Zane despite knowing of the high priest's lust for death and suffering for all living beings. The human-demon warlock knows he is just a pawn to the high priest's game, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is he is beside the only person who actually loves him, well, at least pretends to love him, and that's okay.But when an attack leaves Travis wounded and unable to fight back no longer, the high priest's intentions on Travis are proven otherwise.





	me relinquit

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt i used is this:   
https://scontent-lga3-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/4704204c76568a3c139a3cec520dc3c5/5DA8D4D3/t51.2885-15/e35/18812392_1288367817950748_7253749689026084864_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.cdninstagram.com  
(idk how to link properly im sorry)

He was there when the reincarnation of Lady Irene fell. Her labored breathing had echoed throughout the halls of the chilly throne room within the walls of the heart of O’Khasis, sending thousands of tiny needles of ice pricking into his very own heart. Zane's manic laughter had easily swallowed her desperate and frantic cries. Her cries, however were not cries of help, of mercy nor of fear. They were cries of resoluteness, of bravery, of a fiery passion to persevere, live and fight for her people and all those who she had loved in a way that only a simple Lord could muster. 

She had looked at him then, chest heaving and bleeding in more places than one. She hadn’t looked at him with any contempt nor hatred like he had expected her to, for standing at the other side of the room, the other side of the war. Instead, she’d looked at him with a sort of pitiful understanding and the needles in his heart had twisted in deeper. 

He wished he hadn't locked his pathetic dull green eyes with her ever so incandescent honey colored irises, the seemingly perpetual life dancing in her eyes rapidly drowning in its own light just as the high priest’s toxic laced blade had finally pierced into the center of her heart. Her final gasp, the final beat of this realm—and all the other realms beyond this one's savior’s heart was all that was left reverberating in Travis' ears. 

He was there when the former Fire Fist, and now, former guard of the late Lady Aphmau, had held his gaze from across the battlefield. Katelyn’s fierce stare spared him not a single drop of sympathy nor sense of the slightest shock or betrayal. He hadn’t expected it from her anyway. She had never trusted him from the moment they had crossed paths, and she had never failed in heavily expressing that sentiment. _Why should she trust him?_ He was a demon after all. Who could ever trust a _demon_? 

Her eyes were fueled with the intensity of a blazing blue fire that matched the color of her wild icy blue hair and the raging murderous intent that was no doubt carefully buried deep inside her. He supposed he deserved each and every ounce of her wrath for doing absolutely nothing to prevent the death of their old friend. 

Their old friend who had left him alone in that island, his friends that left him alone and isolated from the rest of civilization in that supposed thriving island of hope, love, and safety. Alone, isolated, shunned, rejected, and despised by the very same people who he had fought to protect, who he had sacrificed so much to ensure their safety. 

He was left behind by all of them. Left alone to let his dreadful past repeat itself, except this time it was crueler, knowing that he actually had friends for the first time in his entire sheltered life. And yet they did nothing but leave him behind when they clearly knew how much the loneliness had torn him apart. 

Maybe the years of isolation and rejection had finally been catching up to him as he was becoming increasingly desperate for any sort of contact, affection, _anything_ to make him feel wanted, _loved_. So when the high priest of O’Khasis filled his head with ideas of his friends abandoning him, leaving him to die alone—_rot alone_, accompanied with the tempting promises of intimacy and comfort from the high priest himself, Travis, with a heavy and dull heart, sick of being devoured by his own fears of a death in solitude, finally turned his back on that island, turned his back on every single thing he thought was good, and meekly accepted the fact that this was the path he had always been destined to walk in since the very beginning.

Travis knew at the very core of his heart that everything that came out of that deceitful high priest’s mouth were lies. He was at least smart enough to know that much, but he was so sick of suffering in the bitter truth, what more pain could he not handle in indulging himself in some pretty lies for once in his life?

He knew from the moment he had held onto the high priest’s deathly cold hands, he was accepting the hands of death himself. He was going to die. That was inevitable. But unlike all his previous dreams of death, at least this time, he knew he was going to die with someone by his side. And even if that someone didn't genuinely love him, and simply regarded him as a pawn in their sick game of war and death, that's okay. 

He was so selfish for wanting to feel loved so desperately that he was willing to gamble the lives of so many people in order to achieve it. Every doubt and every guilt he felt towards his disgustingly selfish decision were always dismissed and forgotten by the high priest's soft murmurings and gentle touches. They were empty at heart, Travis knew, a ploy to keep him wrapped around the man’s finger, to keep him fighting for the wrong side of the war but despite knowing all of this, Travis melted into the touches nonetheless. 

He was selfish for wanting love. So _so_ selfish. Now, humanity and all races, of magic or not, were suffering for his selfish desires. And he was way too deep into the high priest's little game that even if he had wanted to stop, he could not. 

So he supposed he deserved this. This with him violently coughing blood onto the concrete ground, a trembling hand firmly pressed onto a large gash—courtesy of Katelyn herself—across his abdomen. His breathing was rapid and irregular, his vision a blurry kaleidoscope of metallic greys, blacks, and reds, too many reds. His ears were ringing as the cacophony of clashing weapons, viscous war cries and foreign languages of spells being casted muted all together in the background as if his head was underneath water.

That would have been a very good explanation as to why every intake of breath he made left a sharp and burning sensation in his lungs. 

He vaguely felt his left arm being lifted and a wet gloved hand touching his waist. He winced and gasped, his body reflexively fighting off the touch but whoever was holding him payed no mind to his squirming. He was swiftly hoisted up to his feet, not even realizing that he was on the ground in the first place and was hurriedly ushered to the descent of stairs he guessed reached further down into the catacombs of the abandoned church they were all at, away from the battle that was still taking place. He wondered now whether or not he should've come to this mission in the first place.

He stumbled more than once as they walked, tripping on his own feet, but the hands supporting his weight were patient and didn’t in the slightest bit rush him. He paused once or twice to bend over and throw up, red coming in harsh contact with the grey floor. Releasing the already weakened grip of his hand on his abdomen, he brought up the sleeve of his tattered and blood-stained coat to wipe his mouth, only succeeding in smearing the leftover blood dripping from the corners of his lips onto the rest of his face. Black spots peppered his vision, but he furiously blinked them away.

_Not now_. He told himself. Breathing shakily, he continued trudging down the stairs. 

After stumbling once more, and spitting bloodied snot every once in a while, he was finally gently lowered to the cool ground. His aching back slumped against the concrete wall and he let out a deep wavering breath. He braced for the man in front of him. 

Zane Ro'Meave was kneeling before him with his trademark indifferent facial expression. His hair was an expected mess, revealing his blind eye exposed. Blood was splattered on his face and a smattering of cuts and bruises were beginning to form on his pale complexion. The usual face mask he wore was nowhere to be found and something darker than obsidian stained his armor. Travis was about to ask him what it was when a violent coughing fit ripped into his chest once again. 

Gentle fingers quickly made its way onto his back, rubbing soothing circles as his body shook with an uncontrolled force not for the first time that day. Once he finished, he laughed humorlessly. The sound that escaped him was pathetic. He looked at Zane and noticed then that the high priest's eyes were fixed onto something below the demon’s eyes. His brows were furrowed and he seemed to be deep in thought. The demon traced his gaze to find them heavily fixed onto the rapidly bleeding wound on his own abdomen. 

"Oh”, Travis croaked. 

One word seemed to be enough to break the spell the high priest was seemingly trapped in and the man's hands immediately sprang into action, fumbling with the medical supplies sitting beside him. When did he take that out? Where did he take that out from? 

Neither of them said another word as Zane occupied himself with preparing the medical supplies needed to treat the demon’s wounds and Travis occupied himself with the difficult task of simply steadying the pace of his breathing, hands finding their way back onto the wound on his abdomen. He winced but otherwise pressed his hands deeper, applying pressure to the wound. 

Rapid footsteps, heavy with armor and bulky weapons from two or three floors above their heads faintly entered their range of hearing, and small debris and dust shook from the ceiling. The potion in Zane's hands slipped from his grasp and the glass bottle shattered on the ground, spilling the contents of the potion wasted on the concrete floor. 

"Shit", Zane hissed. 

When Travis instinctively tried leaning forward to help, Zane planted a firm hand on the demon's shoulder and roughly shoved him back. Travis flinched and Zane slipped a curse and a panicked apology. 

Travis' breath hitched and for once, it wasn't due to the excruciating pain in his body. He watched with wild eyes as Zane struggled to keep a slew of curses from flying out of his mouth. He prompted Travis to let go of his wound and Travis sluggishly removed his hands and carefully placed them to his sides. Swiftly after, Zane’s hand then lifted Travis' shirt with much less grace than usual. The clothing was tattered and drenched in blood, Travis' blood. 

Zane barely contained a grimace as he took off his gloves to press his bare hands against the large slice across Travis' skin. It was wet and the blood was leaking from the gaps of his fingers. Travis hissed and Zane murmured another apology as he shakily started wrapping bandages around the demon’s abdomen. The sounds of approaching footsteps were getting louder. Travis bit his lip as he glanced to the side before turning back to face Zane. 

"You should go", he said, voice low and weary, the action exhausting him more than he had anticipated. 

He felt Zane's hands tense up and go still for a fleeting moment before slowly continuing on wrapping Travis' wound with newfound tenacity. Travis looked at him tentatively but the high priest's eyes were determinedly refusing to meet the demon's stare, seemingly keen on ignoring him for the next hour or so. 

_There won’t be a next hour or so._ Travis gritted his teeth. _At least for me._

"Zane. Leave", he tried again. His throat was dry and it felt like someone was continuously scraping multiple jagged rocks against it. Still, the high priest's hands did not leave Travis' skin. 

"_Zane_", he whined, _pleaded_. The hands on his abdomen faltered but otherwise, didn't stop. Soon his own labored breathing was accompanied with someone else's unsteady breathing. 

"_Please_." 

The hands on his wound kept moving, the movements were faster now, jerkier and it took Travis more than a second to realize that they were shaking, that they weren’t his own hands that were shaking either, but the high priest's. 

Shooting the high priest a surprised, then a concerned, then a confused glance, Travis took a deep breath in spite of worsening the pain his chest. He watched the high priest's chest rise and fall in a worrying pattern. His eyes were intensely focused on Travis’ wound but his eyes told him that his focus was elsewhere. 

Travis forced out a laugh, only stopping midway when it hurt his lungs too much and he was reduced into a coughing mess again. Zane's shaking worsened as the high priest struggled to keep Travis’ own shoulders from shaking from the force that wracked his body, and he watched the demon spit blood again on the ground beside him. 

Travis unsteadily sighed, offering Zane a weak smile afterwards. It was more of a grimace. Zane did not smile back.

"Honestly", Travis breathed, chuckled even. "If you were the angel that would guide me to heaven—", he flashed a playful grin at Zane, weaker than all the grins he's ever given before, and Zane stared at him wide-eyed, "—I would gladly die for you every day." 

The smirk he meant to give off at the end of his sentence faltered and what's left of it was a sad attempt of a smile, but still, Travis held onto it. 

Water instantly pooled around the edges of Zane's eyes and when he blinked, they fell. They fell and they stained Zane’s beautiful ashen face. Travis was taken aback. The smile on his lips dissipating completely. Zane's face was absolutely fear-stricken before it twisted into the familiar violent unconcealed rage. 

"You weren't supposed to be at the front line!", he shouted, trembling in rage and glaring a hole through Travis' skull.

Travis flinched. Tears were streaming down Zane’s face and instead of wiping them off, he remained his hands still firmly applying pressure on the demon's wounds. He sniffled furiously. 

Travis was surprised to say the least. It wasn't every day that you were dying in the catacombs of an abandoned church and it _definitely_ wasn't every day that Zane Ro'Meave showed any emotions other than rage. Well, Travis supposed what Zane was showing him right now was rage, but this rage didn't feel like the rage he was commonly associated with. This rage was different. There was something else in it in which Travis didn’t know how to react to. Travis didn't know what to say. He felt too exhausted to think of what to say. 

Luckily, despite his minor involvement in the death of her descendant, Lady Irene blessed him with not having to say anything at all as Zane slowly lowered his head on Travis’ shoulder. Travis could feel the slight trembling wracking the high priest's body and involuntary tears of his own rolled down on his blood-stained face.

“You weren't supposed to be there", Zane repeated in a tone much softer than before. 

Travis suppressed the immediate urge of pulling the high priest away as the man’s body felt way too heavy on his own, even if it was just his head on his shoulder. It stung and ached all around. He must’ve gotten hit at the shoulder at some point. He couldn’t exactly remember. His memories were nothing but of a hazy fog. Travis had barely contained a gasp at the discomfort.

He stared at the wall across him instead as the raven-haired’s body softly shook on top of him. He tried lifting his arms to console the young man, maybe wrap his arms around him as he was starting to feel cold in this place, but he found no energy to move his limbs in the slightest bit. Both his arms and legs were numb. Travis didn’t feel the fear he usually would’ve felt though as he realized this. Instead, he felt as if the entire situation was—

Comical. 

As morbid as it sounded, Travis found the entire situation comical.

Zane, the unshakable _Zane Ro’meave_, whose emotions were way below him was here, right now, _crying_ over some pitiful touch-starved demon who couldn’t even be bothered that he was dying, couldn’t even feel anything of the situation, not even when the wetness from his eyes rolled down his own cheeks. 

It was painfully ironic, he thought.

He chuckled. 

"She was heading straight for you", Travis said. His voice was husky and it took a great deal of work to get it working, but he continued, chuckling once more as he slightly buried his nose into the mess of Zane's raven hair. "Wasn't that my job? To protect you?" 

Zane ripped his head instantaneously from Travis' shoulder. Anger consuming his face once more as fury vibrated through his being. Travis would have flinched but his body was too tired. He stared wide-eyed instead. 

"You shouldn't have interfered", Zane said again, this time using that practiced voice he used whenever he spoke to people of important status. "You wouldn't have gotten hurt this severely if you hadn't." 

Travis' throat felt itchy again. The feeling was inconstant and it was starting to get annoying. He was engulfed with urge to cough again but his chest hurt too much for him to submit to the need. Swallowing the irritation, he asked, "What was I supposed to do then? _Sit still, look pretty_?" 

"You were not supposed to be hurt." 

"Then why put me in battle?”, he asked, growing annoyed and straining his voice as he spoke louder. He laughed dryly. “Look, Zane. My involvement in this war is just as great as your involvement in it too, you know?"

They both remained silent for a second. A defeated sigh. 

"I know”, Zane said. 

"I’m not going to just stand there and watch you die.” 

"And who decided that for you?”, he snapped. He lifted an eyebrow, authoritative and commanding but the effect fell ill on the demon and Travis returned Zane’s stare with a stern look of his own. 

"I did.” 

Zane scoffed incredulously, "So what? You're just going die in place of me?" 

"That's what I signed up for, isn't it?" 

At the look Zane sent him, Travis feared he might have said the wrong thing. The high priest’s blue and white eyes were wide with disbelief. His mouth was pressed thinly into a straight line.

"No", Zane said. Shaking his head, that damned unreadable expression was on his face again. Travis decided that he was starting to hate seeing that face on the raven-haired man. 

If there was one thing good that came out from him literally dying, it must have been his inability to hold back and filter any of his words anymore. Though, he blamed that much from the possibility that his brain was probably being deprived of oxygen from the rapid loss of blood.

So, confused, he asked, "Then what in Irene’s name did I sign up for?"

"This."

Zane gently cupped his hands on either sides of Travis’ face and very softly, pressed their lips together. Travis’ breath wavered but he didn’t hesitate in kissing him back but his efforts were significantly lesser than Zane’s.

They’ve done this before and every time they did, it was bittersweet. This moment was no exception however. It was the sweetest they’ve had but no doubt the most bitter one as well. Travis’ skin was worryingly cold under the touch. 

As he broke off the kiss, Zane refused to distance himself from the demon for more than two inches apart from each other. They breathed, Travis heavily and erratically as before. Travis felt the fingers of the high priest find their way onto the back of his neck and they stayed there. The tips of his fingers were hot on his skin. 

"And so much more”, Zane whispered, wary and seemingly afraid that the weight of his voice might crush Travis' lungs any further. 

Travis smiled painfully at the raven-haired. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Zane." _Anymore_. He left the last word unsaid, but they both heard it either way. 

"_Valkrum_—" 

"Please, leave", Travis interjected, cutting through whatever reasoning Zane might've had at the tip of his tongue with a soft yet harsh whisper of his own. Tears rolled down his increasingly pallid face, dampening the already dried blood on his cheeks. Zane didn't think the demon noticed he was even crying, or maybe he did, and he was just all too worn out to fight them back any longer. 

A weak hand landed on Zane's shoulder, leaving a bloodied imprint on his clothing. Zane watched Travis as the demon pathetically tried to shove him back, prompting Zane to get up on his feet and leave already. 

"They'll catch you if you stay here any longer", Travis said in between choking out breaths. Blood run down the corner of his lips and it dripped down his chin and onto his neck. 

"Travis." A hand enveloped the one on Zane’s shoulder. 

"_Zane_." He tried shaking off the hand on top of his and attempted to push the man further from him. Though, the attempt was futile. The man didn't even move an inch, didn’t even seemed phased in the slightest and Travis ended up with only exhausting himself further. The color of Zane's raven hair was bleeding into the dead greys of the catacomb's walls, same with the reds in their now interlocked hands and the dirty whites that had fallen on the bridge of his own nose. Travis felt drowsy and the lids of his eyes were heavy. 

"I'm not leaving you.” A voice shied the colors away from each other and everything was steady again, the high priest's voice was steady. 

Travis blinked slowly at him, taking a minute too long to register the meanings of the words that had just left his mouth. The voice was steady, confident and sure of what they were speaking of but Travis didn't know what they were saying. It was foreign to his ears. It was like he was listening into another language. He didn't understand what was being said. Everything was closer to gibberish than actual sentences. And the longer he thought of them, the lesser he was to getting close to deciphering the actual meaning. It hurt his head too much to think. 

"I’m never leaving you", the voice repeated, and Travis could now recognize the language now. It was the same as before but it was clearer. Still, the pain in his head was not numbing down. He shut his eyes, not realizing he found them hot and stingy for quite a while now. 

"Not like how everybody else did." That soothing voice spoke once more. It belonged to someone. It belonged to Zane. Zane held Travis' hands, intertwining their fingers together and tenderly and softly pressed the two of their hands onto the high priest's chest. Travis could feel at the palm of his hands and the steady rising and falling of the high priest's chest. 

"I promised you that, didn't I?", Zane asked. 

Travis’ lower lip quivered ever so slightly. His breathing was a pace too slow compared to the high priest. He struggled to follow the way the high priest's chest heaved softly. It looked painless. Peaceful. 

A sharp pain pierced through Travis’ body and he gasped. The grip on his hands tightened and he looked up, breathless, at the worried look the high priest was giving him. It looked painful. Everything was painful. 

"You and I both know that you never fulfill promises”, Travis smiled pitifully. He almost regretted answering so honestly. 

Zane frowned. "Is that really what you think?," he asked. He sounded heartbroken. Travis didn’t think he’d ever heard the high priest sound this heartbreaking before. Could it be possible that the voice he was hearing right now was a dream? Was he already dead? If so, why was his entire body still throbbing with pain? That couldn’t be right. 

"Did you really think I was pretending the entire time?", Zane asked. 

"I don't know”, Travis confessed, his eyes still closed as he was fighting off the drowsiness that threatened to overtake him. He was afraid of peeling his eyes open. He feared that if he did, Zane’s voice would instantly disappear and so will his beautiful face, and the hand that’s linked with his. He was afraid that if he opened them, he will have to face the truth that he had always been alone this entire time.

Panic started welling in his chest. _Okay_. He thought to himself. He needed to breathe, calm down, _breathe_. Breathe in. Hold for five seconds—or was it seven? Hold for seven. Wait—_No_. Start again. Breathe in. Seven seconds. Ouch, his head throbbed with a dizzying pain again. Why was it so painful? He didn’t get hit in the head, did he? 

He groaned. 

"I'm not leaving you”, Zane said. 

"Zane—"

"_Travis Valkrum_”, he said and Travis opened his eyes. “I am not leaving you, and I will stay by your side for the _rest of my life_." 

Travis blinked at him, a scandalized expression on his tear and blood stained face. For the first time that night, he frowned. 

"They'll kill you." 

He received no reply, and when Zane showed no signs of getting up, even as the loud cackle of boots vibrated the concrete floor surrounding them, Travis inhaled sharply. He screwed his eyes shut. 

"Zane. Please." 

"I'm staying." 

"_Zane_.” 

Zane looked at him and Travis felt the gaze boring through his eyelids so he slowly fluttered his eyes open. Determination was flashing in the high priest’s eyes. The same determination he had always admired from the raven-haired. Travis smiled at the sight and fat tears spilled at the corners of his eyes. He was shocked he even had the energy to cry. A wet smile on his lips, he whimpered. 

"I love you."

He felt lips on his lips again but they were both still. The warmth brought by the high priest's lips made Travis' shoulders relax. A few easy breathes managed to escape him for a change. The warmth was pleasant and comforting and it made Travis' feel as though he felt no pain shooting through his entire body. He wanted more of it. More of Zane. He wanted to lean into the kiss and melt into the embrace as he always would, but he feared that if he tilted his head for just a little bit, his body will fail him and he will fall forward, thus inevitably breaking the kiss. 

So he stayed still and he simply cherished the moment as it was. The kiss lingered on for a few more seconds and Travis' eyelids fluttered shut as soon as they parted, the small movement lifting a heavy weight off of him. Another breathe left him just as the addicting warmth of Zane left his skin. 

But, he didn't want to think about that though. He didn't want to focus on the feeling of having something, someone leave him again. It was getting tiring, just as much as keeping his head up was tiring. Travis took all of what was left in him to lie his head down onto the crook of Zane's shoulder. 

Heat returned to him as gentle calloused hands gingerly grazed his skin. Warm and relaxing. 

Succumbing to the lull of sleep, the promise of a slumber guaranteed of no pain, and accompanied by the comfortable warmth, he sunk his head deeper into the chest of another person, focusing on the rise and fall of their chest, the steady beating of their heart. 

“I love you too, Travis."

He was there, and he stayed.

**Author's Note:**

> travis to travis: "pathetic"
> 
> ending's kinda weird and ah, maybe cheesy? idk i dont like it but i dont hate it either? (can someone tell me why is that?? hahhah thanks)  
also!! there will also be second part to this in the future so heads up! i will post part 2 as a new work tho so yea


End file.
